Page 8 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

CHAPTER FOUR

Kennedy

“I sent you the new Chanel suit Caroline picked up for you in Paris, make sure you wear it with the pearls you received from your father last year. And for heaven's sake, have your hair and makeup professionally done.” My mother's instructional phone calls had begun last week, with less than a month left of my time here in Colorado, her planning for my arrival had taken on a new frenzy. Caroline, my sister and a carbon copy of our mother, did everything she said to do, including marrying the man hand picked for her. She would be sitting beside her with a disapproving look of her own.

“Monica Timmons is rumored to have a weekend in New York planned, the last thing we need is for her to see you walking around the airport in some hillbilly attire.” She considered anything made of cotton to be the fabric of the poor and underprivileged. Denim was for factory workers and those who had to remain employed at menial jobs in order to provide for themselves. My days of wearing anything comfortable were limited, at least in her eyes.

“Simon will pick you up and bring you back to the house.” Simon is her driver, not that she really needs to be driven anywhere as she rarely leaves the house. Choosing instead to hold her social gatherings in the castle she built with my father's money and surrounding herself with the latest find her designer brings her. Every piece has a story and belonged to one former presidential family.

“Your father arranged for a man from the dealership to deliver your new car, make sure you thank him before he leaves for the office. I’ve also spoken with Barbra Vale, her son William, is interested in having dinner with you as soon as you settle in.” A mental shiver ran up my spine, Will Vale was known to have his hand in more vaginas than a gynecologist. He used the pretense of his family's money, and one degree of separation from the Kennedy family, to get what he wanted from desperate women. The last time his name crossed my mother's lips was the day she asked my father to let him work at my father’s firm, something to do until he passed the Georgia state bar. “I cannot emphasize to you enough how important a gentleman like William Vale is to our family.”

The Vale’s skirted around the definition of prosperous, with their bad investments and overspending. Will had failed the bar twice already, an embarrassment his family hid from their circle of friends. Most of the furniture my mother had in her collection came from the back room sales Mrs. Vale used to keep the lights on in their home. Will may want to have a meal with me, but it would be in his favor and not mine, something I wasn't interested in.

“Gloria will be here when you arrive, we agreed your wardrobe will need refreshing.” This call ended as all the others I’d received, no bid of farewell or exchange of I love you’s to end the conversation. When Claudia Forrester was finished speaking to you she ended the call, never waiting to see if you had a reply, as it never mattered to her.

Ethan had reached out a few times to try and reschedule, I'd used my mother as an excuse, always busy with something she needed from me before I left for Atlanta. He remained steadfast, sending additional flowers and constant text messages. The more he pursued, the further he drove the wedge between us. I tried to remain courteous and polite, but his last few calls had gone to voicemail and eventually in the deleted file.

Sabrina enjoyed the flowers he sent, always setting them beside the framed photo of her son. His impassive face and unwavering eyes atop a crisp uniform, the majestic colors of our American flag behind him. One afternoon, after the deliveryman had left, I asked her how she and her late husband met. Curtis Moore had his own detached face on the long table, the likeness between the two men uncanny.

“My cousin was allowed to have a pool party for her seventeenth birthday. My mother said I had to attend, no matter how much I protested. Being the ripe old age of twenty, I felt a party for kids was beneath me.” Sabrina ran a finger along the wooden framed photo of her deceased husband, a content smile gracing her face, memories trapped behind her blue eyes. “I begged my friend Tracy to come along and give me someone to talk to. Aunt Janet, my cousin Becky's mother, hired a band to play as a surprise for her daughter. As I suspected, the backyard was covered in hot pink and neon green, with balloons and party hats all around. When the band came out, Becky jumped up and down, screaming her head off like an idiot. I was about to take a drink and wish Becky a happy birthday, when the deepest voice I'd ever heard spoke through the speakers placed around the yard. I almost choked on the soda as my eyes found the owner of the voice. When our eyes met, I was hopelessly lost.” Her voice dips to an almost whisper, her mind lost in her memory.

“Curtis sought me out during the first break they had, asking me to wait around so he could drive me home.” Her strained voice was husky with emotion. “That ride home, became a seat in a bar across town two nights later, watching as he played for a slightly older crowd. Later, as we sat on the hood of his car, kissing under the stars, he confessed he was weeks away from leaving for boot camp. He asked me to wear his class ring and keep his car until he came back after training. Months later he came back, hair short and a diamond ring in his hand, asking my father’s permission to marry me.”

Twisting her ring on her left hand, blinking her eyes rapidly as the present came back to her. “We were married in our family's church and he had orders to come here to Colorado Springs. We were young and in love, with nothing of any value between us, but we managed just fine.”

Stepping away from the photo and her memories, her eyes bright with the tears she refuses to shed, finding strength somewhere deep inside. “The call came early one Saturday morning, by Sunday night I stood outside a chain link fence as his plane took off for the desert. A month later when my period failed to show up, I knew our tiny family was about to grow. Curtis came home long enough for me to give birth to our son and take the two of us home from the hospital, before he had to board the plane again. Two weeks later the Chaplain came to my front door, with an apology from the President and sorrow for a man he’d never met. My Curtis had been shot in an ambush not two days after he returned to Iraq.”

Sabrina had always presented herself as such a confident and secure woman, listening to her now, I understood why. “My love for Curtis was instant and still lives inside of me. Sometimes, I dream he’s in the bed with me, all smiles and playful. No man will ever hold a candle to him, never make me feel the way he did.” She reaches out to touch the petals of the flowers, their pinks and greens looking too bridal for her simple dining room. “Kennedy do yourself a favor, find a man you can live with, but more importantly, one you can't live without.”

Sabrina leaves the room in silence, her advice and sad story weighing heavy and deep in my soul. She was right; somewhere out there was my one true love. I could either sit back and wait for fate to steer him my way, or I could do everything in my power to find him.

With a clear resolve, and an ounce of borrowed courage, I opened my laptop after the lights from the main house turned off for the night. Searches of dating websites left me with more questions than reassurances this was the path to follow. After nearly two hours of clicking through the smiling faces of men who had signed up with the same purpose, I noticed an advertisement on the left sidebar of my screen. MilitaryConnections.com, the blue and red font stood out against the white background. An animated flag waved as bright yellow script scrolled from right to left, telling me a uniformed man or woman in the service awaited me.

Where the other sites had a multitude of generalized questions about my physical preferences, this site asked questions about me and what I enjoyed doing. Before I knew it, I had a registered account and a response from a handsome man named Zack Michels.

Military Connections MESSAGE: 1

FROM: Zack Michels

Dear Kennedy,

Imagine my surprise as I settled in for what I expected to be a dull Friday night, only to find the new photo of a beautiful girl from back home. Forgive my rudeness, my name is Zack Michels and I am from Liberty, Kansas. Although, for the past several months, I've laid my head down in the middle of Pakistan. I hope I haven't spooked you; the time stamp on your profile says you created this account in the last few hours. Honest to God, I'm a down home guy who lived his entire life on a farm. My parents raised me to be respectful and love my country, by joining the Navy; I feel I'm doing my best. Sadly, my father didn't get to see me wear this uniform, as he died a week before my sixteenth birthday. Now, before you extend your apology for my loss, know he loved us and made sure we all knew it. His death, although a rough period at the time, has made me a stronger person. I’d love to hear from you. See if you think we could be something special.

Waiting patiently

Lieutenant Zack Michels

I read his email twice, my heart pounding in my chest as I compared his words to the photo he attached. Sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes half covered by a straw cowboy hat. With a smile as big as the sky, he sat in the seat of a tractor, his knees dirty from what I would assume was hard work. Before I could over think my way out of it, I composed a return letter.

Military Connections REPLY TO MESSAGE: 1

Zack,

My cursor blinked as I tried to find the words. It was insane to think an instant attraction could be formed based on a single letter and photo. Sabrina spoke of her and Curtis sharing a single look and what could be described as fireworks. Could I feel this for Zack or should I try and see if I found someone who made my heart drop into my boots?

Thank you for your letter, it was nice to see a friendly face as my first response. To set your mind at ease, you did not spook me. It would take more than a pleasant letter to accomplish this.

My name is indeed Kennedy and I currently live in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where I work with horses and spinal injury patients. I love what I do, in both my involvement with the horses and the men who have served our country.

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